


Bang! Bang! BITE!

by Croik, delina



Series: Bang! Bang! BOOM! [5]
Category: Bang! Bang! BOOM! (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 22:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Croik/pseuds/Croik, https://archiveofourown.org/users/delina/pseuds/delina
Summary: A vampire AU for Bang! Bang! BOOM!  Wherein Jakub has just learned that his lover is one of the hellspawn he has dedicated his life to hunting.





	Bang! Bang! BITE!

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a fun one shot we both worked on a while ago and thought some people would enjoy :)

By the time Jakub arrived at the manor, all its windows were aglow with light and music, and the guardsmen too inebriated to put up any noteworthy resistance. He moved swiftly into the building's interior, heedless to the curious glances cast his way by passing servants, even an angry word or two over the muddy boot prints tracked in his wake. One particularly bold footman attempted to take his coat for him, heavy and tattered as it was. It took only a look to send him skittering on his way. From the lane to the ballroom Jakub didn't break stride once, until he was standing in the archway of a side entrance rarely noticed by even regular guests, staring out over the festive assembly.

The Passerini Manor had never looked finer, which was quite a feat for an estate already well known for its finery. Gold and silver ornaments decked the ballroom, glimmering in the warm light from dozens of polished chandeliers. The marble floors shone like mirrors and ice sculpted into classics of historical art decorated every corner, flanked by the most decadent and exotic refreshments Jakub had ever seen. Everything smelled of wine and and candle flame and evergreen. Jakub was almost dizzy in face of such indulgence.

The guests were no less lavish, many of which were out on the floor, dancing along with the orchestra. Silk and satin, lace and brocade rotated about the grand hall like spinning lilies in a stream. Jakub eyed each partnership, strict attention leaping from one to the next, eagerly seeking. When he caught a glimpse of familiar honey-gold locks, his heart gave a painful thud, only to be immediately reined in by a man approaching from his left.

"Mr. Danowicz," greeted Oscar. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

Though Jakub hated to take his eyes from his quarry even for a moment, he turned. Lord Oscar Vescovi was just as handsomely adorned as his ladyship's ballroom, draped in rich, dark fabric and a welcoming smile. Sadly, his manners were not quite so affable as to disguise the stiff shape of concealed daggers in his sleeve and boot cuff.

"You said once that I was always welcome in your manor," said Jakub, making even less of an effort to hide the pistol holstered beneath his topcoat.

"You are," Oscar replied. "But I do recall you being very particular about not attending tonight."

"I had a change of heart." But Jakub didn't have a talent for coyness, no Oscar for obtuseness, so there was no point in him offering anything short of the full truth. "I'm not here to cause trouble for you, or even for _him_. I'm only interested in a conversation."

Oscar's sympathetic expression might have been charming in any other circumstance. "A conversation with that gentleman _is_ trouble," he said. "Can I not interest you in a more productive activity?"

"No." Jakub had wasted too much time already; he had lost sight of his object in the crowd and was anxious to instead put his ears to the task. "Thank you, Lord Vescovi, but my aim is singular. Please, for your own sake, leave me be."

"Very well. Best of luck to you, my friend." Though reluctant, Oscar tipped his hat and withdrew to attend to his more sociable guests.

Jakub returned to his vigil of the dancers just as the orchestra drew them to a halt. Applause spattered the hall as the guests congratulated themselves and caught their breath, some retreating from the floor to refresh. Their voices smeared and bubbled, each spilling jovial, empty-headed inanities, none more so than the bright and melodic laughter of the gentleman at their center.

Jakub almost lost his nerve. Not even a glance at his face yet, but there was already sweat on his neck and teeth in his stomach. Oscar was right—meeting now, like this, served neither of them and would only draw unwanted attention. But when the guests parted and Cheshire Bloom stared back at him from across the room, it was too late. 

There was surprise in the lift of his eyebrows. Fondness in the curl of his lip. Regret in his eyes. Jakub couldn't breathe let alone retreat, and then Cheshire was heading toward him, gracefully extricating himself from the redhead on his arm and a slew of other attentive admirers. As Cheshire drew closer and their reunion became imminent, he considered breaking his word to Oscar after all. His fingers twitched for want of the pistol grip. Two shots of blessed silver wouldn't be enough to provide anything more than a warning, but it _would_ open a few eyes around the assembly. It was what the mad bastard deserved.

Cheshire stopped in front of him, his smile foolish and hopeful and lethal. "Jakub," he greeted, bowing just enough not to betray his supposed peerage. "This is a pleasant surprise." 

Only a fool would think him sincere, but Jakub was no longer convinced he could claim not to be. He couldn't reach for the gun. "Oscar said the same thing," he replied.

"Did he?" The brief, irritated twitch of Cheshire's lip was so familiar it broke Jakub's heart. "Well, I can guarantee he's not nearly so surprised nor so pleased as _I_ am to see you. I wish you would have told me you'd be coming—I would have helped you pick a suit."

"You think that matters to me now?" Jakub retorted, spurred on by righteous anger. "That it ever did? I had not one care for your frivolities even before I knew they were only ever part of your disguise, _Baron_."

Cheshire's shoulders grew slack. "Ahh. So, you've had the _whole_ truth, then."

To see him so contrite only fueled Jakub's temper, and he ground his teeth in frustration. "Yes. I have. No thanks owed to you." It would only incense him further to ask, but he did anyway. "Why did you not tell me yourself?"

"To what end?" Cheshire replied, but without the sheer aloofness Jakub had expected. "So that you could call down your Kozlow kin on me, each with stake in hand? A bloodbath would not have spared you what pain you feel now."

Jakub grimaced and hesitated to answer. It did not take a devil's eyes to guess his mind—Cheshire straightened, emboldened. "Or maybe you wouldn't have said a word," he said, curiosity and eagerness suddenly returned to his tone as he took a step forward. 

Jakub immediately took a step back, into the hall. "Don't come any closer," he warned.

"We've had some good times, after all," Cheshire continued, urging Jakub to retreat, step by step, further from the view of the crowd. "Perhaps you hate _us_ less than you're in love with—"

Jakub's back struck the wall, but Cheshire was still advancing. He couldn't let himself be cornered—Cheshire was capable of so much more than he'd ever known or expected, and none of his instincts could be trusted. So he grasped his pistol, leveled it. The muzzle pressed into Cheshire's breast and sent tension through Jakub's outstretched arm. 

Cheshire stopped, but he was already much too close. Too close to hide the disappointment behind his smugness. "Is this why you came tonight?" he asked, hands at his sides, without a hint of fear for whatever projectile might come out of the weapon. "To shoot me, Jakub?"

"I know it won't kill you," said Jakub, thumbing back the hammer. He wondered if Cheshire found his mask just as easy to see past. "But at least then everyone would see what you are."

"Oh, Jakub," said Cheshire with a pitying little smile designed to infuriate. "You wouldn't dare. Because then they'll all see what _you_ are."

Jakub pulled the trigger. All he wanted in that moment was to wipe the grin from Cheshire's too-handsome face, proving that he wasn't the only one to have underestimated his lover. But there was no report, only a tight grip around his hand, and Cheshire's pinky wedged behind the trigger to prevent it from being drawn.

"The legendary Jakub Danowicz," Cheshire taunted, bruising Jakub's fingers against the metal. "Slayer of monsters. Couldn't even tell that he was fucking a vampire."

Jakub had never seen him move so fast. In fact, he didn't see him move at all. Cheshire wrenched him about, spinning him, shoving his chest to the wall in a blur of motion. Though a frequent and devoted admirer of the man's strength, rarely had it ever been turned back on him. His skin prickled with heat as he was swiftly and inescapably pinned by the broad weight of Cheshire's body.

"I think that must enrage you more than any lie of mine," said Cheshire, his voice a rough whisper against Jakub's ear. The scrape of his breath sent Jakub's heart pounding. "You must have thought you would be able to tell, if you had a bloodsucker sharing your bed. Did you think I would feel _cold_?"

He leaned harder into Jakub's back, and there was nothing cold in the cinch of his embrace—nothing but heat in the moist pressure of lips to the side of Jakub's neck, just above the rise of his collar. His mouth was blunt and heavy, though it couldn't be called a kiss; he merely wanted Jakub to feel the outlines of his teeth as they stretched to demonic proportion.

Jakub tried to shift his footing in search of leverage, but there was none. There was no sideways lunge that would help him, no room enough between them for him to pull anything of use from his belt. Cheshire knew him too well—had more than once fought alongside him, as impossible as that seemed now—and would see through any trick. He could only seethe as Cheshire's mouth at his throat drew a conflict of memories into his chest. It wasn't so long ago that he had taken Cheshire at a ball just like this one, hidden from view of their hosts just like they were now. What a foolish thing to think of with a son of the Devil poised at his vein.

"I thought I could trust you," Jakub admitted. All he had left was the pistol, and he gripped it tight, straining for any indication that Cheshire might give him an opening to use it. "I wanted to."

Cheshire sighed, and when he turned his nose against Jakub's hair, there was an almost genuine affection that tangled Jakub's instincts even further. "I know. I wanted to trust you, too. I still do." He took a deep breath, and Jakub held his, hanging on the brief silence. "Come away with me."

Jakub shivered against the wall, his fists clenching. "What?"

"I already asked you once—that was no jest. I'll ask again." Cheshire made a quiet, almost purring murmur that put a tremor in Jakub's knees. "Come away with me, Jakub. I know you have no love for Kozlow—what keeps you here? Honor and duty?" He scoffed quietly. "You have always been above all else a survivor. Stay with me, and I can lift your every burden. You can have me until the ends of time. Isn't that what you want?"

Jakub should have retorted. Even for a man that valued self-preservation over dignity, he knew there was one burden Cheshire could never free him from, not if they were to stand side by side. He ought to have railed in the face of it, and yet, when Cheshire's hand slipped from the pistol, he made no attempt to brandish it. He kept very still against the wall, sweating down to his boots but unflinching, as Cheshire yanked down the collar of his topcoat. His breath caught at the return of polished incisors drawing imprints against his neck. 

He didn't fight. Even when Cheshire hesitated, lips curled back but breathless, as if even _he_ thought Jakub ought to have been showing resistance, he did nothing. He had waited a very long time to do nothing.

The fangs broke his skin, so swift and precise that Jakub barely felt the sting. He was robbed of even the flow of blood over his flesh, as Cheshire's mouth was already tightly sealed over the wound. Not a drop was allowed to be wasted. It wasn't much at all as Jakub had devoted decades to the imagining of it—the heavy, steady suction of Cheshire taking him in, the pinpricks it left in his fingers and toes. He waited for panic to claim him but there was only the soothing familiarity of Cheshire's sturdy frame swaying into his. There was only his pulse counting time. Beat after beat, breath after breath, strung together as intimately as any moment they'd shared together. 

Cheshire touched his face with uncovered fingers, and dazedly Jakub unclenched his teeth to take one into his mouth. His fingernails tasted like wine and magic. All Jakub had to do was bite down, and a hundred lifetimes with the man he adored was the very least of the pleasures he had to look forward to. He could consume as he was being consumed, with aching finality, all earthly woes left behind. What a fearsome duet they would write for an undeserving world. But when he ground the knuckle between his teeth, his hands began to shake again. Everything spun and he remembered, at last, blood on the floorboards of the small peasant house a child had once called home. And instead of biting down, he pulled the trigger.

The bullet struck Cheshire in his knee, and he reared back. Though more startled than injured Jakub took advantage; he swung his elbow, driving Cheshire off his shoulders. As soon as there was enough space between them for him to turn, he leveled the pistol and fired its second shot directly into Cheshire's heart.

Cheshire reeled, collapsing to one knee and gripping his chest. The blood staining his hand-sewn jacket was as red as any human's, but there wasn't nearly enough of it. He barely seemed to register the injury, saving his attention for Jakub alone with eyes wide. And Jakub stared back, breathing hard with the pistol quaking in his grip.

Cheshire's infamous smirk stretched tight across his face. "I'll consider that as a 'maybe'," he said.

Faces began to appear in the doorway, and in an instant Cheshire was gone, vanishing in a flurry of beastly flesh, racing from the hall too quickly for the naked eye to track. He left not even a stain on the manor floor—only Jakub, his back slumping to the wall as blood flowed unhindered down his collar.

In moments Oscar was at his side. Might he have always been within reach? With one hand he clasped Jakub's wound, but the other went to his jaw, forcing it up. "Did you drink?" he demanded, pushing back Jakub's lips with his thumb to see his teeth. "Jakub, did you—"

"No." Jakub allowed him to prod, grateful that Oscar's greater stature might hide him from the lords and ladies peering out at them from the ball. "I did…I could not."

Oscar sighed, and his pity made Jakub suddenly and very keenly aware of the many symptoms of his blood loss. Suddenly he doubted that his knees would hold him without the wall at his back. "Come to the parlor," Oscar said, his shoulder a generous offer as he urged Jakub to step forward regardless of his shivering. "I'll fetch Dr. Buttons to patch you up."

He led Jakub away from the guests, who were already losing interest as the servants shooed them back to their merriment. If any of them had taken note of Cheshire's departure, none commented, and it was likely one loyal to him would smooth over any curiosity. They would remain ignorant of the enemy in their midst a while longer. Oscar's counsel had been sound after all—Jakub had accomplished nothing in his coming.

But as Remington bandaged him in the parlor, as he sipped Passerini wine while the orchestra struck up a new dance, he couldn't regret not taking the advice. For just a moment when Cheshire's eyes were wide with surprise from a gunshot, he had been honest. Perhaps that had been his true aim after all.

"Maybe," Jakub agreed, and when Remington looked to him in confusion, he waved him back to his work. 


End file.
